


Hard Knocks

by virtualwraith



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, but mostly hurtful mcreyes, small mchanzo at the end if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 13:41:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8104519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtualwraith/pseuds/virtualwraith
Summary: Three times Jesse McCree learns life isn't fair, and one he learns that it could be.





	

The room is comprised of a steel table, an opposing chair to his own, and a singular light buzzing softly overhead. Jesse spat blood directly on it, as if to defile its spotlessness, cracking a lopsided grin that stretches out his excruciatingly painful facial bruises. He had not an inkling of an idea where he was being held, only that the man who tied his hands behind his own chair had definitely been rough around the edges, and that his Deadlock compatriots were dead, sizzling out in the roasting Route 66 sun, while he was trapped like a dirty rat in some official looking make-shift cage. The silence was nothing that Jesse wasn’t used to, but he had insults bubbling in the back of his throat, hidden for safe keeping when the timing was right. Life rarely blessed him in a way that Jesse took notice -- he was alive, but it didn’t make him feel any better -- but this was one of those times Jesse did. The door on the opposite wall slammed outward, heralding the presence of a man that Jesse recognized as the one who had tied him up earlier. The teen licked his blood stained teeth eagerly, opening his mouth to create spitfire when a hand was held up in a ceasing motion.

“Save it, this ain’t your place.” Jesse reeled back, snorting in contempt while the stranger took the opposing side of the table. A smirk crossed his face when he noticed the slight lip curl the man did at the blood mixture that was staining the table. He was pretty proud of himself for already pissing someone off and he hadn’t even spoken yet.

“Wipe that fuckin’ smirk off your face, boy.”

“I would. But, y’know. My hands are tied,” Jesse snarked back, fluttering his eyelids to try and get a better reaction out of his opposition. Jesse wasn’t an idiot -- in fact, he outwitted everyone long enough to still be alive as a teenager in a godforsaken gang -- but he knew when he was outmatched. Dark, mysterious, and burly, his captor appeared twice his age and deadlier to boot. The scruff of a goatee complimented the scarring that had torn its way onto the bridge of his nose and into the contours of his cheeks. Overall, rugged and unsmiling, definitely not a face that was slapped on promotional material. If Jesse was a betting man, which he was, he figured he was some soldier, too irritable and important to be sitting across from him. Yet, here they were.

“You’re lucky I hate small talk, otherwise I’d sit here and entertain your ass all day.” Jesse hunched over while the other clasped his hands together, the leather of his gloves emitting a tightening scrunch. “I’m Gabriel Reyes, commander of Blackwatch. Your commander,” he added, which garnered a laugh from Jesse, blood and spit dribbling down his chin. For a commanding officer, he sure knew how to welcome new recruits: with a committee of punches to the face. Jesse licked at his lips, eyebrows furrowing, but the smirk never wavered.

“I’d rather eat dirt, sir,” he sneered.

“Your little friends are doing that right now in the desert. You want to join them?” A flash of metal: Reyes had procured a gun, digging it between Jesse’s eyes. The teen sat steadfast, the only noise coming from his mouth in bubbling pants, gurgling from the well of saliva and blood still making its home there. It wasn’t his first rodeo with a firearm digging into his skull. He usually held a weapon of his own, though. Reyes sniffed indifferently, clicking off the safety. He was pressing the mouth of the gun so hard against Jesse's forehead that it was definitely going to leave its mark there.

“I could indulge you. All you have to do is get some manners and ask politely.” Jesse said nothing. Both were at a standstill, rigid and not moving, until Reyes finally receded. The gun had its safety put back on, placed right back into its hold on Reyes' hip. 

“Hm. Do you know why you’re here?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, _sir._ ” 

Jesse could almost hear the man’s jaw work. He’s restraining himself. “You’re here because I decided to be nice and not waste a good shot going to prison. You do realize that was where you were headed had I not saved your ass.”

Jesse leaned back in the chair, smiling sarcastically. “Aw sir, you’re gonna make my heart burst with such love.” Reyes' deadpan look was all Jesse needed to feel as though he won. The commander had already threatened Jesse with punches and a gun. There wasn’t much else Reyes could do, save killing him. Jesse knew this. “Blackwatch, eh? I’ve heard about Overwatch, bunch of stupid fools running around playin’ hero and what not. This some sort of secret gang?”

“You could say that. You’ll have jobs to do and I’ll expect it them be done. You’ll find out more when you impress me.”

“Then how you expect me to join when I have nothin’ to go on, ‘specially when you’re damn affiliated with those high and mighty Overwatch assholes?” Jesse tugged at his confines, feeling the burn against his wrists. He noticed he was gritting his teeth so hard that they might as well be reduced to powder. “How is that fuckin’ fair?”

Reyes stood impassively, only raising an eyebrow in response. Jesse felt like a damn fool. Of course. “I don’t got a choice do I?” The heavy thudding of boots signaled that Reyes had said his piece, and he was needed elsewhere. He hadn't lied, he really didn't indulge Jesse in any small talk whatsoever. The smallest of smiles adorned his face when Jesse and he locked eyes before his exit. 

“Learn this fast, pendejo, drill into your thick skull. Life ain’t fucking fair. That’s just how it is.”

\---------

Jesse learned fast.

Mission reports, sparring with other recruits, murdering targets -- it took Jesse only a year to get fully acquainted with the style of how Blackwatch operated; considering most recruits fell off the beaten path and got themselves killed, it was an accomplishment. The seedy underbelly of Overwatch, Blackwatch was still miles away from how the Deadlocks raised him, staunched and steeped in protocols and rules the likes of which Jesse had never seen -- and he was promised that there was no red tape holding them back. A mission in Numbani could mean medals and honor for Morrison and his soldiers, but for Blackwatch, hours upon hours of interrogation, bodily fluid clean up, mounds of bodies left to be incinerated. It could mean that Reyes was barking orders to get shit done, and there were no excuses on why it couldn’t be. Jesse tailed right behind Reyes through it all, handling his dues with a firm grip on his revolver, a gift that Reyes had thrown to him when Jesse had shown proficiency in all areas of gun slinging. Even as an impressive sniper without a scope, which had prompted Reyes to make sure Jesse accompanied him on all missions that he took personally. 

Five in the morning was generally not a time that Jesse enjoyed being awake for, but jet lag from their last mission in Germany -- which had taken a turn for the worst, suffering the loss of two soldiers Jesse had to personally dump in a river to cover their tracks -- was forcing his hand, his body aching for any caffeine to get him through the night. The common area was thankfully empty, the percolation of his coffee soothing to Jesse’s ears. He slumped over the counter, hand tangling in his rat’s nest of a hair do, eyes trained on the coffee pot. Reyes had told him not to stay awake, and he could feel his commander’s words nagging at him as if he was there in person. Huffing in annoyance, Jesse stood up straight to go fetch a mug for his coffee when a shadow blocked out the fluorescent light from above. The intruder made him flinch and instinctively paw at his side for his gun, but it was only Reyes, still clad in his Blackwatch armor from hours ago, his own coffee cup held between his fingers, looking for a refill. Jesse’s heart skipped a beat, and heat rose to his face. The commander held up both hands in mock surrender, his smirk reaching his eyes.

“You got me. The fuck are you doing up? I gave you orders to hit the bunk.” His tone was not overly caustic and Jesse relaxed his shoulders, which he hadn’t realized had been tensed. The faint beeping coming from the coffee pot cut through the silence, of which Jesse interjected into. “Couldn’t sleep. Not after what we did.”

“That’s what happens when you let your guard down. Consider it a lesson.”

“Yeah, yeah, life’s a cruel teacher,” Jesse mused, pouring himself a cup after Reyes was finished. The mug was warm and inviting, but he placed it on the counter, opting for staring at Reyes instead. He was met with a quizzical look.

“They were your guys. You don’t care?”

“When did I ever give you that fuckin’ impression? They were dead weight.” Reyes spun his hand in a motion that seemed flippant. “You know what I mean. You’ve seen others die before when they’re not careful. Why the sudden interest?”

Jesse’s eyes flickered every which way that wasn’t his superior’s face. The answer was simple -- it could have been them. Him or Reyes. Sure, he had seen the loss of other recruits before. Had to bury a few of them. But that was back when Jesse had not let his personal feelings seep through the cracks. He had gotten to know their names, their interests. Broken noises and cracked ribs were trophies to them. Keepsakes and mementos for a better time, that one day they’d be recognized just like the Overwatch lackeys because they worked harder than them. Surely their toiling would mean something in the end.

“I ‘unno. Guess it’s stupid to think about.”

Reyes took a sip of his coffee. “Nah. Not stupid. Just don’t waste your time, McCree. It’s just inevitable. Getting attached to people just makes the jobs harder.”

“But what if you can’t help it? I’ve seen the way you look at Morrison.” 

It had slipped out, he hadn’t meant it. The tension was building like a tidal wave nearing its breaking point. Reyes had the cup poised at his lips, pausing while he drank in what Jesse had said. His face became rigid. “What?”

“No, it’s -- sorry, I just mean you two squabble like love birds all the damn time on missions we gotta work with them. It ain’t hard to notice.”

Reyes raised a brow. “You’d think that would mean I hated him.”

Jesse smirked. “What’s that old saying? _They're teasing you because they like you?_ ”

“I don’t like Morrison, pendejo,” he said bluntly, leaning against the counter and placing his mug on top. His arms soon crossed. “You don’t know about that iceberg, it runs a lot deeper than you think.”

“Well call me the _Titanic,_ ‘cause I’m interested in crashing head long into whatever disaster this is.” He smirked. Reyes frowned.

“That fuckin’ goody two shoes got Strike Commander and I didn’t. I was supposed to. End of story.”

“So you’re petty?” Jesse knew he was treading on glass that was already broken, but he and Reyes were anything but professional. There were times that they'd rib each other like no tomorrow; anyone who didn't know them would assume they were equals. Reyes punched his arm in response, but it was good-natured -- Jesse’s quick witted responses were the glue holding his composure together. Otherwise the boiling lava of hatred might have come out to destroy.

“Ah -- no. More like, he fucking got the position even though I’m the one who led everyone into that last battle. Good old white bread lookin' bastard had a face so pretty they could sing about it, so I got passed over and they slapped Morrison with the commander title and a few posters just for good measure. Meanwhile, they developed Blackwatch and I jumped on the chance to be in charge of it, since I damn well deserve _something._ ” Reyes snorted. “Then I found this ingrate who thought he was the best shit since sliced bread--”

“-- Who is probably also _devilishly handsome._ Might know the guy, now that you mention ‘im.” They both laughed, their cacophonous enjoyment echoing in the small confines of the room. Jesse noticed they were uncomfortably close, but it didn’t make him back down. If anything, it spurred him on even further. The ball was rolling, and it was in his court. 

“So if it ain’t Morrison, who gets your dick wet these days?”

Reyes blinked owlishly. “You think I’d tell you that?”

“I’d like to think you’d tell me anythin’, considerin’ the shit we’ve been through. We’ve walked through hell together so far, and the devil hasn’t gotten either of us.”

“You make it seem like we're best friends in a hit comedy show, McCree. I won’t slip you the _juicy gossip._ ”

“Probably won’t. But actions speak louder than words, just an F-Y-I.” Jesse was smart. Brave. But also irresponsible. For some time now he had been watching his commander, eyeing him in the showers like a piece of walking meat. Thick, corded muscles covered every square inch of Reyes’ back; the slope where it met his ass was the best damn thing Jesse had laid eyes on. It was as if an angel had blessed Reyes was an insatiable backside just begging to be eaten. Of course, not like Jesse knew anything about that. But he liked pretending that he did. Reyes blinked slower again, watching as Jesse lean in near him. Now an adult, Jesse had skyrocketed in height; they were similar in that regard. But Reyes still had a good fifty pounds on him, and he quickly reminded Jesse of this fact, grabbing the male’s arms and pressing his back into the quartz counter-top.

“The fuck you think you’re doing?” It didn’t stop Reyes from molding his entire body on top of Jesse’s.

“What we want, I reckon.” The kiss was searing, but also sloppy, a tangle of tongues and saliva that didn’t quit. Jesse felt the hard outline of the other’s cock pressing firmly against his thigh, and for a brief moment Jesse wished they weren’t wearing anything, just to feel the raw physical power he had only seen out in the battlefield. His arm curled around Reyes’ neck, feeling the nape shudder at his touch; he was barely aware of himself being placed up onto the counter while Reyes followed, their bodies still entangled. Experimenting, Jesse dipped his hand lower until he could feel the firmness of his commander’s ass, which tensed under his fingers. A tentative squeeze elicited a growl from Reyes, who pulled away to glare at Jesse underneath him. Blearily, Jesse opened his eyes, his gaze met with one a cold stare in response.

“We have a mission in twelve hours. Be ready for it.” As quickly as they had started, it had ended. Game over. Jesse could feel his heart’s pulse pounding all the way to the tip of his cock, longing to be released and touched and serviced. But it wasn’t going to happen tonight, it seemed. He was resigned to that. 

“Aw, hell -- c’mon, don’t do that to me. Don’t leave me hangin’.” His chin was suddenly grabbed, pinched between Reyes’ thumb and index finger. His dark eyes bored right into Jesse’s, hard and full of an unknown emotion that Jesse couldn’t process. Hurt? Rage? He didn’t know. He couldn't tell.

“That’s just how life is. Deal with it.”

Life left Jesse on that kitchenette counter top for a good solid hour after Reyes left.

 

\---------

“You fucking fool. You could’ve _died._ ”

The satellite controlled transport only held Jesse and Reyes, sitting across from each other. The dimness was the only solace Jesse had from the harsh, burning glare that Reyes was intent on using to ignite him on the spot. Jesse pressed his back against the cold metal of the transport, keeping his eyes locked on his commander’s form, chewing his lip in response. Reyes wasn’t yelling, which meant he was disappointed. Which was _worse._

“I had them. We got our shit done. I ain’t a kid anymore, stop treatin’ me like one.” At twenty-five, Jesse had filled out more: bulkier, hairier. Definitely not the caricature of a gangly teen picked up out of the maw of the desert. Gabriel scoffed at the same time as a red light started to flash overhead: they were nearing their outpost for the evening. 

“Just because your age has changed, doesn’t mean your recklessness hasn’t waned. You’re still acting like some big shot.”

“Well, I am, ain’t I? I killed all those targets myself.” Jesse rolled his shoulders back. The light illuminated Gabriel’s face, highlighting how unamused he was. Neither one budged an inch until they reached the outpost, which was just a concrete building smack dab in the middle of a long forgotten wooden area. Their current mission had been an extraction of data from a broken down omnic on the outskirts of Stuttgart. The rest of the details had been foggy for Jesse: something or another had activated a gaggle of the omnics, guns blazing. It was just him and Reyes, pinned down with no escape, until Jesse decided to take matters into his own hands. The fight had left them both battered and bruised, but they were still able to recover what they needed. 

They stayed in relative silence as they hunkered down in the outpost, the only source of electricity coming from a few archaic lamps Reyes found in a crate. The living situation wasn’t posh -- it had been abandoned for years -- but neither one was used to staying in fancy escapes. Jesse removed his armor, sneaking side glances at Reyes who was currently hunched over on a crate, thumbing through reports. In the back of his mind Jesse hoped that the criticism was coming from a place of worry, not harsh reality. Since their brief encounter in the common room all those years ago, neither one had made another move, carefully treading each other’s waters as if one person would finally give. But nothing happened, and Jesse had all but stood down.

Jesse chewed on nothing in particular as he strode over to Reyes, setting himself down on the dusty floor. “You gonna just sit there and brood over my ass?”

Not missing a beat, Reyes rolled his eyes. “I guess the title of _‘commander’_ means absolutely nothing to you, McCree.”

“Nope, never did. Was never keen on authority much anyway,” said Jesse, taking out a cigarette and lighter from his back pocket, striking the coil to light up his vice. He handed one to Reyes, who could never pass on the offer. 

Jesse took a long drag, exhaling the smoke through his nose. The wisps furled around his face for some time before he picked up again. “Look, I’m mighty sorry. But quit your bitchin’ ‘bout me. I can handle myself. I can handle us.”

“There is no _us._ ”

“You know what I fuckin’ meant.” Inhale. Exhale. “I don’t need your worry.”

“You need every bit of worrying you can get, Jesse.” Jesse’s gaze met the other’s. The only time Reyes called him Jesse was when he was seriously lecturing him. 

“You never cared about me rushin’ in before. Why is this time different?”

“Idiota, it was just you and me. If I had lost you, it’d be my fault. On _my_ head. Any other mission we have back up, we have other people watching your tail. I can’t let you die on my watch.”

Jesse didn’t blink as Reyes blew smoke in his face. “Stop then. Stop worrying. I’m alright.”

“You don’t get it.” A harsh laugh seemingly floated out of Reyes. “You can’t tell me to stop caring about you. Not with how many years we have under our belt. You’re some scruffy asshole who weaseled his way into Blackwatch and became my best recruit. If you die, I do.”

The tension that rose between them was one Jesse hadn’t felt in years. He had thought everything of the past had been put behind him. _Life isn’t fair. That’s just how it is._ The cigarette was tossed to the floor, stamped out by Jesse’s boot, and Reyes followed suit. Jesse wanted to think about how the smoldering ashes of their cigarettes were a metaphor for them, but it hit too close to home. It was too real. 

“If I mean so much to ya, why did you push me away all those years ago?”

“What?”

“Don’t act like you don’t remember. When I interrupted our stupid banter ‘bout Morrison with a kiss, you pushed me on that counter and had your way with me. You stopped, then looked like you were gonna kill me. Nothing has happened since.”

Reyes dropped the mission logs on the floor, sitting up straight, hands tight on his knees. “Another iceberg, Jesse.”

“I told you, I’m the _Titanic._ ”

There they were again, pushing and groping on each other, lips locked in an ongoing war of lust and need, Jesse keening right into Reyes’ mouth. The man’s bulk settled on top of his, thick and rock hard, a hand sneaking up the back of Jesse’s neck to card itself through his tangled mess of brown hair. Jesse’s own hands tugged at the male’s armor in a desperate and pitiful display to get the upper hand, but yet again Reyes bested him, standing up and placing a boot right on Jesse’s chest. “Easy, easy,” he crooned, shedding the top portion and throwing his clothes on top of the crate. Marred with a myriad of scars, Reyes had seen better days, but Jesse had to swallow his whimpering from seeing his commander shirtless. 

As if he hadn’t seen him naked in the locker room dozens of times. 

The rest of their outer wear molted off quickly, with Reyes insistent on sitting his ass down directly on Jesse's collarbone. The rush of adrenaline Jesse had in him fizzled out, only to be replaced with a certain dread. Here was Reyes, basically giving his ass to him on a silver platter, and Jesse forgot his silverware. Experienced in eating someone else out was basically the opposite to Jesse’s life. 

“If you’re going to rush into things, you better dive in head _first._ ” Reyes pressed his cheeks right into Jesse’s face, feeling his balls sag heavily on the younger man’s chin. It had been a scorcher, and Jesse was currently getting a mouthful of sticky, sweaty ass. Without hesitation, Jesse’s fingers found themselves digging into the meaty flesh, prying it open to give him better access for his buffet. There was nothing familiar about what Jesse was doing, but it still felt natural -- especially with Reyes groaning so huskily, driving and mashing his backside directly into his warm, welcoming face. He could feel all of his commander's weight with each downward motion, driving a heavy scent right up Jesse's nose.

Reyes finally relented, getting off Jesse’s mouth to grab the man’s hair and tug him closer to his throbbing cock. The engorged head was the dustiest of pinks, and Jesse instantly latched onto it, licking the underside of the shaft with renewed vigor. Round two had only just begun, but Jesse was becoming an expert. His hands mapped Reyes’ thighs, dipping against every thick scar, finally making their way into the thick base at the base of his shaft. Choking on cock had not been part of the menu, but Jesse gladly complied; he swirled his tongue effortlessly, pulling away only when Reyes had his fill and decided it was time to move on.

“God damn, Reyes,” Jesse huffed, his tongue lolling out, saliva dripping from the tip. Reyes in turn snarled, throwing Jesse back onto the floor, positioning his mouth right next to Jesse’s own quivering uncut cock. A few sucks had Jesse arching his back, but Reyes didn’t stay in that stance for long, finding himself on his knees poised directly on Jesse’s chest.

“God has nothing to do with it. I’m also not fucking you without lube, Jesse.”

“Like I care.”

“You’re a virgin, you idiot. I’m not going to wreck you.” Reyes leaned forward on his knees, only leaning back to have Jesse’s cock slide smoothly against the crack of his ass. A sharp breath. A casual smirk. Jesse’s hands once again found themselves holding onto Reyes’ thick body, guiding him into the best position to be fucked open. 

“I can’t believe Gabriel Reyes is lettin’ himself get fucked.”

“Unlike you, I’m no bitch.” 

“How am I the bitch when you ain’t lettin’ me be the receiver?”

“Shut the fuck up, McCree, and just enjoy this.”

Rocking his hips back and forth, Reyes developed a steady rhythm of riding Jesse’s cock, grinding his ass down with each thrust. With no central air conditioning, their bodies became slick with sweat, the musk and moisture palpable between them. The sounds Reyes let go from his throat had Jesse reeling, his mind going back and forth between intently listening and losing himself to the action. Relishing in both was enough to make Jesse pant loudly; his stomach coiled with a hot inferno every time Reyes uttered his name, every time his fat, juicy, hairy ass slapped itself down on his balls. The floor was made of wood and it creaked and groaned, protesting Reyes and his thick set body pounding itself on Jesse's cock. “Look at you...you’re going nuts.” Jesse didn’t -- couldn’t -- respond. One of the hands that had been holding onto Reyes had found itself strewn across his eyes, shielding himself from the display currently determined to drive itself down on his cock with every bounce. A few more thrusts and that was it: Jesse unloaded himself completely within his commander, yelling something almost inhuman, gruff and dark and full of gravel. Reyes skipped a beat, following Jesse soon after, body trembling in the afterglow. The commander crashed to the floor next to Jesse, rolling away when he could move again, cum slowly dripping from between his cheeks and down his thighs.

For some time they were hushed, with Reyes finally getting up to clean himself and get dressed. Jesse followed suit, working up the courage to grab Reyes’ hand to lead him to the makeshift bunks that they had, but as if touched by a hot coal, Reyes drew his hand away, clearing his throat.

“No. You know how it is.”

“The fuck are you talkin’ ‘bout?” Jesse saw Reyes give him the same look he did all those years ago, the same mixture of hurt and anger that Jesse realized he probably gave to Morrison before the mess of the Strike Commander debacle had come around. Wordlessly, Reyes left Jesse standing there, retreating to his own bunk on the opposite wall, while Jesse’s arms felt heavy and useless. His brain signaled the command for them to reach out, to grab again, but he couldn’t. He shouldn’t.  


_Life isn’t fair. That’s just how it is._

\---------

“I have never realized how ridiculously tacky that arm of yours is.”

“Aw, shucks darlin’. Thank you.”

The gentle sea breeze, full of salt, gently caressed at Jesse’s beard as he leaned against a rock at the precipice of a cliff. Gibraltar was gorgeous at the sunset, the sea awash in gold and languid sailboats tugging at the gentle waves. Jesse chewed on the end of his cigarillo, eyes catching the tail end of Hanzo’s arrow lodging itself into a stranded rock formation. Later on, he’d watch Hanzo climb down the one they were currently sitting on, jump over to the isolated one at sea, and retrieve them all. When Jesse asked why Hanzo just doesn’t use the training rooms in the base, all Hanzo did was snort. “ _No outside forces. How would I practice in an airtight room?”_ He had been here for only three months since the recall, and he couldn’t remember a cheekier thing anyone else had said to him.

He got him there.

“It was not a compliment. Though I am curious.” Hanzo pushed out his chest and notched another arrow, letting it fly over the calm waters. Bullseye. Jesse huffed in a joking manner, trying to act hurt.

“Curious ‘bout what?”

“You were not obviously born with that arm,” he said brusquely. “What happened to your original?”

Jesse idly tongued the end of his cigarillo, rolling it to the other side of his mouth. “I got cocky. Went back to the Americas after I left Blackwatch, ran into some stragglers of my gang. Didn’t like that I abandoned them, so to speak. Blew off my arm, here I am.”

“You’re leading me to believe you just magically procured that tin can out of nowhere?”

“It’s called aesthetic. And no, one of the members who didn’t want the fight to escalate saved me from bleedin’ out and whipped me up with the arm since he was so good at robotics. Most people in Deadlock knew some shit about machinery. ‘Course, I killed him after he did his trouble.” Jesse cocked his head to the right. Casual as if he was talking about the weather. “He helped me, but anyone from that old gang needed to be snuffed out.”

Hanzo placed down his bow next to Jesse, sitting on his knees, which Jesse found to be ridiculous considering their location on a scraggly cliff. “You think that repaying his kindness with death was fair?”

This time, Jesse didn’t hesitate to laugh, slinging his hands on his pulled in knees. “Lecturing me about wrongful death. Coming from you. That’s _rich._ Sorry sweetheart, y’know what I mean.”

“You avoided my question.”

Jesse took a lighter from his back pocket, striking it to light up his cigarillo. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hanzo’s face scrunch in annoyance. He always forgot how much the archer hated the taste of smoke.

“I guess not. But life ain’t fair. That’s just how it is.” He felt like a parrot.

Hanzo gazed longingly out to sea, his hands resting on his thighs, stoic as ever. He finally clucked. “No. It is fair. People do get their penance in this world. You and I are still alive, despite what we have gone through.”

“Please, spare me. I know from experience that it ain’t.”

“Life is what you make it. As cliché as that phrase sounds, Jesse, it is true,” countered Hanzo, giving him a nasty side eye. Jesse puffed on his cigarillo, blowing out thick smoke from the corners of his mouth. “Life is not random, life is not already decided. It is based on decisions and actions of yourself and those around you. What is not fair to you, is to someone else, and vice versa. I have learned this the hard way.”

Jesse had nothing to say in response; he opted to scoot closer to Hanzo to rest his chin on the archer’s shoulder. Hanzo stiffened, but closed his eyes anyway.

“You are here because you chose life. That in itself is simple, though life is complicated. It is not black and white. Do you understand?”

Smoke curled itself around them and Hanzo sighed, looking away, muttering something that sounded like _for fuck’s sake, McCree._ Jesse didn’t want to argue, not as the sun slipping below the horizon painted Hanzo in the prettiest colors, hued with red and gold that portrayed him as a beacon of light amidst the dark memories that were lingering in the back of Jesse’s mind. Gabriel Reyes, Dead. Jack Morrison, dead. But he was here, because he chose life. Hanzo had told him that. Maybe the archer was right.

Maybe sitting with Hanzo, on the cliff, looking out at the setting sun was life. 

Maybe that’s how it actually was.


End file.
